First, the French charts, now… our hearts? Not quite.
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[5.14]
Anthony Easton: It sounds a lot like Eiffel 65 or Prozzak or other such euro cheese, but I think about gun play, and neither of those bands had much to do with it.
[5]
Brad Shoup: It’s not Swedish reggae, but it will have to do while I await Swedish hoedown. This is a stone-cold bummer, and its mordant humor fused with the static arrangement is a big chuck of its appeal. Also the guitar solo that’s pitched somewhere between sinuous and back-masked. Still, I try to limit my flagellation sessions.
[6]
Iain Mew: When your voice is this much of a corrosive stain, I guess you do have to make the best of it.
[5]
Alfred Soto: If it’s a response to Eminem it’s garbled and twelve years too late: “My name is Stain/I don’t complain” distorted and sung over a faint guitar-anchored skank is the sort of gesture that Beck in his prime could have pulled off. This man deserves credit for almost succeeding. And it’s still a wry joke, twelve years too late.
[6]
Jamieson Cox: The beat is pleasantly bouncy, but this is too muddled for my taste, and there isn’t a strong hook or charismatic vocalist present to break through the clutter. I did chuckle at “My name is Stain / I guess my daddy had a sense of humor,” but chuckles are only worth so many points.
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: This becomes awesome if you imagine the title is actually “My Name is Staind” and this is perky/morose Swedish reggae-grunge. Well. It doesn’t make less sense, at least.
[5]
Jonathan Bogart: She’s got more character than he does, but that just means it’s a bit like Skin collaborating with the guy from, well, Staind: you feel bad for both of them.
[5]